Tempting Death
by The Eternity Dragon
Summary: What is it that you want from me woman?" Vegeta snarled, "I want to see you break Vegeta, I want to see you to lose control." Bulma retorted, "Don' t tempt me woman!" She laughed coldly, "But I am tempting you Vegeta, I'm tempting death."
1. Chapter One

                  Tempting Death

Disclaimer:………(+..+)

By The Eternity Dragon

Chapter One

She was sitting on the window ledge; cold water running through her hair, cascading off her eyelashes.

She blinked; the world slowly focusing around her.

The air was cold, the atmosphere consuming and the only noises to be heard was the pounding of the falling rain and the beating of her heart.

The woman closed her eyes, anger flowing through her; she felt her composure peak, threatening to shatter the carefully laid appearance of tranquillity that flowed through her countenance.

Her hands closed around the sill, her face contorted into a deep frown as oval nails dug themselves into the paint; creating deep grooves in the wood.

The anger was so close now so abundant, always right beneath the surface of her mind, ready to blow, ready to ignite, it was slowly driving her crazy.

She sighed, allowing the cold evening air to flow into her lungs; trying to douse the fire within her.

Letting go of the sill as allowed one raw hand to rake through her drenched hair; red marks marred her perfect skin, the short top failed to conceal the self inflicted wounds of her anger.

It was all his fault.

 Ever since Namek she had been filled with a self consuming fear threatening to overshadow the ordinary routine of daily life; and now it was catching up with her.

She struggled to maintain the ordinance that had once been herself; the sense of emptiness, the loss of empathy.

She had no sympathy for others, only a cold regard and moroseness, but they didn't know, they would never understand.

The bitter dread that flooded through her, the untapped rage, the isolation of her soul, and it had all started with him. 

She leaned back, icy droplets of water dancing across her skin, slipping across her lips; her head turned to stare into the eye of the storm.

Rain clouds hung in a grey midst above the house; like an overhanging fog slowly sucking the life from the land beneath it, all was suppressed.

The sun was gone, only a dim light lit the area, like a swashed out portrait. Dim figures could be made out; a tarmac road disappearing into the gloom could just be made out on the horizon of her vision, solitary cars, crawling like glittering insects across slippery ground and the deep vibrations of motor engines rumbling across motorways.

This was the meaningless monotony of life, the endless drone of the continuum; it had been all she had know until a few months ago, until her eyes had been prised open to reveal the insignificance of it all.

She could see now, understand the irrelevance of life; she understood, and she was dying because of it.

Her countenance froze, her heart beating wildly in her chest as a figure emerged from a domed shape building to the left.

Ice flooded through her veins; anger driving her wild with aggression and hostility.

The figure stood still for a moment, before moving towards the house.

Her blue eyes filled with an open antagonism as she followed the figure's movement until it disappeared into the house.

A door slammed shut somewhere downstairs, she felt all of her muscles clench within her; gritting her teeth she slowly exhaled, willing herself to be calm, she must not surrender to the anger or she would lose herself in it.

Slowly she felt her body relax, her mind concentrating solely on her breathing; she suddenly became aware of her right wrist, hot liquid was now flowing steadily across it.

Glancing down she gently unclenched her fingers, her nails had been digging so deeply into her palm they had drawn blood.

Four evenly placed cuts leaking crimson water had appeared on her hand, she lifted the wounds to her mouth, and the sour taste of the strangely metallic substance crossed her frozen lips. 

Movement in the hallway began towards the stairs, she felt her body clench again, panic and antagonism bubbling through her.

She turned her head towards the door, her eyes widening in raw emotions; consciously aware of her rain drenched T-shirt.

The red raised bumps on her arms, where her nails had raked over her porcelain skin; her burgundy lips stained with her own blood.

The footsteps were closer now; her own heart was pounding in her ears; her heart turning somersaults.

 The movement stopped, the silence spiralled horribly; adrenaline pumping through her veins like a throbbing pain.

The door opened, there was no light in the corridor, the dim light from the window cast eerie shadows across the room; a figure was silhouetted against the doorway.

Arms crossed leaning lethargically against the frame as though he couldn't be bothered to support his own weight.

Jaw clenched, chin jutting out from under the nose; the air of hostility intensified in the room as dark eyes raked over her thin frame.

Silence resided in the dark room, she made no effort to talk; her hands were trembling now, she couldn't trust herself to talk, the rage was too near.

"Fix the machine." Vegeta growled, gravely tones travelling across the small expanse of the room seeming like miles, her heart moved to her mouth, beating every second sending thousands of pins and needles through her like a sweet pain.

"It's broken," he continued, his eyes narrowing as his eyes lifted to her lips, sliding slowly and sensually across them.

"Fix it."

For what seemed an age he played the game, trying to get a rise out of her, but she just sat there, like a ghost broken and forlorn.

Her small body wedged into the sill, rain water trickling down her back from her drenched cerulean hair.

He allowed his eyes to trail slowly across her body, and then to her arms, in the dim light he stopped; his eyes picking up the small irregularities in her skin, a suspicion was born, planted in the back of his mind buried in the darkness.

Feeling the doubts of the newly planted notion his eyes slid slowly to her face, her palm was still pressed against her mouth, resting on her hip tightly clenched.

Alarmed now, but determined to let anything show his eyes rested on hers, frozen there by the deep resentment leaking forth from them.

The deep hollows of her indigo eyes pulled him in, the crashing waves of suffering coursing through him, and the anger, like looking at a reflection of himself.

Vegeta shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, he knew that look, the malevolence in it was unmistakeable, even if others could not detect it.

No one moved; he could hear the blood rushing through veins see the blood on her crimson lips, but he still couldn't tear his eyes away from hers.

Moving her hand away from her mouth, she opened her lips, forcing herself to push past the hate and malevolence.

She nodded, licking her lips and moving her legs from the frosty sill.

"You'll do it now." He said, a deep frown settling across his expression; he watched her every movement with irritation.

Why was she taking so long?

Like a shadow she moved towards him, never once allowing her cobalt eyes to leave his onyx orbs; "I'll do it in the morning." 

She retorted icily standing in front of him, the sour smell of anger filled the tiny room; Vegeta stared, what had she just said to him?

"No," he said taking her arm in his hand and wrenching it forward, "you'll do it now."

The woman's lips curled up it a snarl as she tried to prise her arm away from him, as though he was burning through her skin.

"Are you threatening me?" She spat, her cold blue eye's filled with a heavy hate.

Vegeta leaned closer now, his nose inches away from hers, "I guess I am."

He retorted, a small cynical smirk playing up one side of his mouth; he was interested to see what her reaction to this statement would be.

She stood back, her form half shadowed in darkness; her hair long tangled and wet, lying limply of her rain drenched shoulders.

He couldn't make out the expression on her face as it lay in shadow, but an inclination of suspicion crept upon him as the words fell from her mouth.

"If you threaten me again," she hissed slowly, raising her chin to stare him in the face with stormy eyes.

"I'll make sure he kills you."

The words were said simply and in utter truth, Vegeta didn't doubt for one minute that the mean held all of the potential damage that they implied.

He took a step back, surprised by her answer, bemused by her countenance, and slightly afraid of her attitude.

Why was she not scared?

She stepped past him and walked into the corridor, turning back, she whispered under her breath.

"And when you do die, I hope it's in agony; because you are going to hell."

Silence fell, his anger was enraged, how dare she speak to him in this manner?

He advanced a step forward, his mind demanding that she be taught respect.

A voice floated up the stairs, breaking the intensified atmosphere that hung over the two.

"Sweetheart could you come down here for a second?"

She turned, replacing the mask of everyday formality, "Just a minute papa," she called sweetly down the stairs, and with out a backwards glance Bulma turned into her bedroom to change and dress.

Leaving Vegeta standing in the gloomy corridor alone, wondering exactly how two personalities could be contained in one female humanoid form.

This to me could be an utter load of crap, I have no idea, I guess you're gonna have to tell me how it went, this is an Angst, this is gonna be nasty with a lot sparks flying in all directions.

Well, I don't know if you're gonna like it.

I guess you'll have to review and tell me huh?

Love

The Eternity Dragon

&

Murray


	2. Chapter Two

                  Tempting Death

Disclaimer:………(+..+)

By The Eternity Dragon

Chapter Two

Bulma let her hand slide languorously across the floor; fumbling carelessly for the screwdriver. Pushing strands of cerulean hair out of her eyes she bent over, sliding her delicate body underneath the panel so she could adjust the wires.

With no one to disturb her she had seized the opportunity to fix the Gravity Machine; the cold morning air rushed in the open door, a black bird was singing somewhere in the tree outside.

She began to hum tunelessly to herself as she readjusted wires and replaced broken contraptions, anything to keep her mind away from the obvious conclusion that the person who had broken the machine in the first place, would very soon be back.

But she was pleased with the artful deceit that she had woven so carefully last night.

Her parents had not noticed her marred palm; neither did they know the extent of her self inflicted wounds, in the cold isolation of Bulma's room the solitude became unbearable, the rage utterly consuming her until her sanity only remained hanging by the barest thread of humanity.

Her mother treated her delicately, she had just broken up with Yamcha, for what reason she didn't know, she didn't suspect that her only daughter had driven him away, pushing him to the bridge of insanity.

Bulma remembered well enough, the pleading, the self denial, the madness, like a nightmare, but unlike a dream there was no waking.

The conclusion had been delicious and yet so empty, she had yearned for more, like a vampire feeding off pain and anguish, she had lain there broken and consumed by the raw emotions crying for him not to leave her, to save her from the darkness; but in vain.

There would be no redemption for her, no bitter sweet ending, he had left her to her darkness unable to cope any longer, and the love had been drained by the odium.

Yamcha was weak, he always had been and always would be; his adoration for her had maintained his affection to her person for a few weeks after her return to earth, but no longer.

He avoided her now, plagued by ghosts of the past, she was a disease, a deadly 

sickness to him.

No one suspected, Yamcha would never tell anyone of his frailty of mind, only Chi-Chi, dear Chi-Chi, thought it odd.

She overwhelmed Bulma with questions about the hither to and wherefore, but to no avail, the truth was concealed so deeply in her soul now to reveal its extremities to the world would break her.

And she was always now on breaking point, threatening to shatter into a million pieces, only solid determination, and the malignant hate was keeping her together. 

"Red wire," she muttered twisting the copper strands around the plastic casing and pulling them across the metallic underbelly of the machine.

"To green wire," mumbling incoherently to herself, groping for her screwdriver again, placing the bitter wire in her mouth as her hands were busy, she pushed herself father under the device so only her feet could be seen by a standing spectator.

"And yellow to blue." Bulma said eventually placing the two orange threads together; they sparked into life sending golden shards in all directions.

The contrivance beeped into life, the toneless voice of the computer crackled across the empty expanse of the cold room.

"Please select gravity setting." In the indifferent voice it had been programmed to respond with.

"Finished already?" came the icy expression, dancing across the room and slithering 

up Bulma's neck and whispering in her ear.

Her body froze, her heart pumping in her ears, cold adrenaline moving swiftly through her veins; she lay for a moment stock still, her eyes staring up into the grey metal, she saw it and yet she didn't see anything.

Slowly, achingly slowly her eyes travelled to her feet, the small chink of a passage gave her view enough from the ground level of the room.

She watched as the feet drew nearer to her, moving slowly taking their sweet time, and as each second flew by the anger and hostility grew larger and large until it beat against her chest fighting to break out of her.

She slid from beneath the machine, her face remote and pitiless, but her eyes as stormy as a hurricane.

Vegeta smiled down at her, it was an icy smile, the smile of a snake before it bites you, cruelty glittering in his dark eyes.

"What where you doing down there?" he asked casually, his gaze raking over her in hard aggression, she was going to pay.

Bulma felt her nails dig into the hard metal ground beneath her, 'Keep you cool,' her mind screamed at her. 'Don't blow.'

"What you asked me to do." She hissed at him, starting to sit up, her long blue hair sliding sensually down her small back.

"I've fixed the machine."

He smirked down at her, it was a cold calculating stare he was giving her now, full of cold humour; "No," Vegeta snarled, "I asked you to fix it last night."

He raised his head and moved towards the Gravity Machine's control panel, he turned back, those onyx orbs scintillating something that chilled Bulma to her marrow.

"Let's see whether or not it works."

She started, her eyes sliding to his hands as it moved across the key board with the skill of an expert pianist.

"NO!" she shouted, "DON'T!"

But in vain, with a deep whirr the machine began to work, she slammed down into the freezing metal floor, her body feeling ten times heavier than it had ever felt before, blinking was an effort, she felt as though her brain was going to explode, she gulped down oxygen, in an effort to stop her lungs collapsing under the extreme pressure.

"When I ask you to do something," Vegeta said casually as though he was announcing the weather.

"You'll do it when I tell you to." He turned the gravity setting up, enjoying watching her limbs try to heave themselves up from the floor.

She turned her head with a great effort towards him, hate sparkling in her cerulean eyes; she mouthed something at him, but was unable to find the breath to say the words.

"Do you understand?" he asked coldly, staring her down, amusement dancing across his devilishly handsome features. He was enjoying this it was plain to see, she refused to answer, she wouldn't play the game.

Slowly she tried to stand up; her face white from the huge effort, her eyes dancing with determination and hostility, the hate sustaining her keeping her sane, preventing her from cracking. 

She imagined him dead, no lying in agony, the sweet pleasure she would derive from his demise, it filled her with strength, and she pushed herself up.

Bulma was kneeling now to his astonishment, her body ridged with effort he was surprised by her willpower, impressed by her strength. He watched her with in creasing admiration, before malice forced him to turn the gravity settings up again.

She crashed to the floor, a deep moan escaping her mouth taking precious oxygen with it.

He laughed a terrifying sound; turning her blood to ice, she struggled to find breath, she was going to die, she knew it, the blood was pumping to her head in an alarming manner, perspiration drenched her body, and she opened her mouth to scream.

"Go ahead," he snarled, "no one will hear you."

He was right she realised with a jolt of understanding, she felt her mind ebb slowly away into the blackness, colours and images whirred dreamily in front of her vision, 

shadows moved here and there groping for her edging slowly nearer.

Then gradually she began to breathe, her lungs found treasured oxygen again, the pounding in her head gradually lessened, her vision focused, pupils dilating trying to find him in the darkness.

He stooped over her, pushing both of her wrists behind her head in a deadly lock, there was no escape now from those eyes, and she forced herself to glare up into 

them.

He was smirking, icy malevolence sliced through his voice, "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you threaten me woman. If you value your life."

Unaware of the boundaries he was breaking he glared down at her, his eyes moving slowly over her lips and eyes; he bent his head, so that his nose brushed sensually against hers.

He had pushed her onto the next level, she vowed to herself, if it was the last thing she'd do she would drive him mad.

Her soul would not rest until she drove him insane, and from that, she would reap her greatest pleasure, she would take his soul.

**'No one will hear you.'**

"Vegeta," she murmured, "I'll kill you."

Before her consciousness moved into oblivion and she was lost to the world.

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Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, I don't know, maybe you have a better opinion of it than I do!

Read and review I live for feed back!

Love 

The Eternity Dragon

&

Murray


	3. Chapter Three

                  Tempting Death

Disclaimer:………(+..+)

By The Eternity Dragon

Chapter Three

Bulma vainly tried to stem the flow of blood that was now spooling from the small wound on her arm; she jammed herself further into the sill throwing the window wide open as she did so.

The bitter night air rushed in, chilling her to the bone and causing her blood to run cold.

Her body ached from the morning's excursions and thinking about it drove her to the brink of insanity.

 She swore to herself she would drive him mad and that was what she was going to do; she never backed down from a promise or an argument and she would see him consumed in agony before long.

Movements downstairs clattered through the darkness, doors shifting open and shut, creaks and shuffles across wooden floor boards turning into the descent of a stair case.

Bulma felt her heart beat frantically against her chest, this was mad, what had she to hope she would accomplish this feat?

The footsteps were coming closer; she closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down.

**_"No one will hear you scream."_** She mouthed silently, allowing the soundless words to fall into the atmosphere of intense pressure.

The footsteps stopped outside the room, she felt her forehead prickle in perspiration, this was mad, but then again so was she.

Vegeta pushed the door open with a look of avid unconcern; running one hand across his sweaty brow.

He smirked to himself, he'd beat that half breed Saiya-jin if it was the last thing he did.

**_"I'll make sure he kills you."_** The words ran up and down his spine carrying with them their sinister threat and hostility; he'd never seen anything like that before, she made his skin crawl and yet enticed him with every irregular movement she made.

The only other person who had ever dared to make such a threat as that had been Freza; it was hard to think that a puny human female could have the back bone to talk back with such ferocity to a Saiya-jin prince the way only a monarch had ever dared.

Vegeta snarled tossing his head slightly as though to shake the thought off. Thinking about that lizard scum made him sick to his stomach literally; he needed air, his gaze shifted towards the window only to find it was staring back.

His heart jumped, he blinked; what the hell was she doing in his room?

Recovering from the momentary shock, he recovered himself and hissed in menacing tones meant to send the faint hearted scuttling away as fast as they could.

"Get out of my room!"

She merely looked at him, calm concern moving across her face like frost on a winter's morning; replaced by a cold civility.

"It's cold outside tonight isn't it?"

Vegeta blinked, had she not heard him, was she ignoring him, and why was she in his room of all places?

"OUT!" He yelled this time pointing aggressively to the door and glaring at her with an onyx fire dancing in his eyes.

She turned her head from him and gazed out of the window, "Your room is dreadfully high up isn't it?"

Her voice was calm and collected, too composed for his liking, confusion issued through him like a flowing river, powerful and relentless.

He moved in front of her eyes boring into hers; he could see the tempest stirring inside of them, the emotions trying to fight their way out.

Putting his mouth close to her ear so that his nose bumped against her nose in a salacious way he whispered, "Get out before I make you get out."

She stood up, her expression haughty and frigid there was something wild in her eyes that made Vegeta uneasy.

She stood on the window sill, her body swaying gently back and forth, he moved forward and she moved back like a ceaseless dance each person watching the others movements with heightened fear anticipation and anger.

"If I fell," she said quietly, her voice toneless, but her eyes portrayed emotion of intense anger and hatred.

"They would think you pushed me."

 He stopped, completely bewildered by her last words, but bewilderment quickly turned to possessive anger.

"You haven't got the guts!" he snarled back at her.

Bulma leaned forward, her eyes staring straight back into his, unmoving, and uncaring; "Don't I?"

She laughed callously at him, rocking precariously on the frail sill.

"Do you really think I'd jest about something like this?"

Vegeta opened his mouth to reply, but the words lost themselves on the way to his throat, his eyes narrowed, he couldn't answer the question and she knew it.

"You're a coward!" he spat at her, his eyes glittering with malice; the wind blew in through the open window, rippling the frail material of Bulma's T-Shirt.

"That's why you do that isn't it!" he snarled gesturing to her bleeding wound, "You're too afraid to face up to life as it is so you seek to relieve yourself from your troubles by inflicting wounds on yourself."

He couldn't read her expression now; she had raised her head slightly and jutted out her small chin.

"Why don't you show them to your caring parents? Or should I tell them?"

Bulma felt herself begin to sweat; he was turning the tables away from her, something he was not supposed to do, he was much harder to manipulate than Yamcha had ever been.

Yamcha had been weak, easy to frighten, but that had taken the fun out of trying.

She laughed and rubbed her fingers across the wound so that they were covered with the crimson liquid.

Stepping forward she allowed her fingers to trail against his face; running the scarlet blood onto his cheeks.

He jerked his face away from her icy fingers with a look of utter revulsion on his face, "Don't play with fire," he snarled, "or you'll end up being burned. It's already inside of you isn't it woman? Burning away at your soul, driving you mad. Don't think I can't see it even if the Prussian flames are invisible to others like that half breed Saiya-jin."

He wiped his face with the back of his hand; grabbing her scarred arms he jerked her towards him.

"Self mutilation Bulma?" he said softly, electricity dancing down her spine, she hated it when he used her name, and he always said it so intimately she didn't quite know where she stood with him.

He raised the wound to his lips, grinning at her with sharp canines with a devilish look in his dark eyes; "Isn't that a bit low for you?"

Vegeta's mouth closed over the wounded flesh and sucked hard. Hot copper tasting blood entered his mouth driving him wild with blood lust; he heard her sharp intake of breath and watched with a calculating air as she tried in vain to move her arm back.

"STOP!" she snarled, her knees buckling under her soaring sensations, he let go watching her crumple to the floor, never once taking her eyes away from his.

Bulma's skin was dancing with sensation, she half longed for him to do it again and at the same time her mind screamed at her to run far away.

"You complete bastard." She swore, her mouth forming a sickened smile, "I suppose that's some sort of deformed Saiya-jin mating ritual?"

Vegeta laughed coldly down at her licking his burgundy lips savouring her sweet taste, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She gazed up at his her eyes alight with a new fire, she placed one hand against the cold wall and pushed herself up; "If I did tell them about this, I'd say that you had taken advantage of me."

Running one hand through her long blue hair she let it fall gracefully back onto her shoulder, watching with an inward loathing and pleasure as his eyes followed the cascading waterfall.

Bulma smiled moving towards him salaciously swaying her hips and draping both arms across his shoulders, she drew closer, silence pressed over them; his eyes never leaving hers cold and calculating.    

"And who do think they'll believe?" she said from under thick lashes laughing seductively up at him, pressing her body against his.

"Me?" she raised her face to his and smiling vexingly up at him, "Or you?"

She laughed again, cruel, merciless and vengeful.

He took a deep intake of breath, this was getting to dangerous for his liking, he couldn't predict her anymore and he couldn't control her either, she was becoming more and more attractive to him with each passing minute.

Bulma moved forwards bumping her nose against his, moving her hips in slow sensual circles as she did so, like a crouching tiger ready to pounce, and he didn't know how much longer he could control himself.

He opened his mouth to speak but was taken back as she moved her own small ruby lips over his, her tongue filling the deep recesses of his mouth, they moved together in a passionate dance, one trying to gain superiority over the other.

She tore her mouth away from his, a fierce look of malice tainted triumph playing across her bitter features, "I hope you feel the flames burning inside of you soon. You will let the fire consume you." She hissed at him her eyes dancing with a sick sort of delight.

He was confused and slightly afraid, the river was beating down on him with unrivalled force; destroying anything in its way.

She was driving him mad, he realised with a jolt of acrimonious realisation, but he wouldn't let her win that easily, he'd see her morality hanging by a thread soon enough, and then he'd break her.

"DON'T PUSH IT WOMAN!" Vegeta bellowed, his onyx eyes glinting with real anger as he slammed her against the wall, her arms pinned above her head in a tight death lock.

**_"Go on," she snarled, "get it out of your system!"_**

****

****

**_'I'll never get you out of mine.'_**

He didn't answer, instead he tried to get a rise out of her by tracing her lips with one cold finger, and she didn't flinch her eyes staring straight back into his with a look of part lust and part intense abhorrence.

"Just try it!" she spat as his mouth moved closer to hers; anger coursing through her along with a deep routed attraction for him. She wondered exactly what sort of hole she'd been digging for herself.

Vegeta raised his head slightly and glared right back at her unmoving eyes; silence poured over them for what seemed an age. 

In those singular seconds he chose the path that would now affect their lives for all eternity, 

****

**_"No one will hear you scream."_**

He let her go moving across the room to shut the door with a resounding snap; he'd never been so angry in his whole damned life.

It was time she learnt some respect.

"Fine." Was all he said.

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Okay, well that was a load of crap, sorry for a truly dreadful chapter, and no, the obvious isn't about to happen, it gets a lot more dark now, IMPOSSIBLE you say? Bulma cannot be more twisted that she already is?

Well ha! I say just wait until you find out what she did to Yamcha!

Hopefully in the next chapter Chi-Chi will pay a surprise visit to Bulma when she least expects it…………

Anywaz, read and review,

love

The Eternity Dragon and Murray


	4. Chapter Four

                  Tempting Death

Disclaimer:………(+..+)

By The Eternity Dragon

Chapter Four

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Vegeta closed the door, cutting off the light from the hall lamp, the entire room was shadowed in an over hanging darkness, but she wasn't afraid of the dark she never had been, on the contrary she liked the dark.

It held unknown mysteries and possessed secrets locked in a tight embrace; he moved slowly towards her his eyes never leaving hers, she could feel her heart pounding against her throat, she glared back at him with the same malevolence and posture, she'd never let him win this game, never!

He stood behind her and snaked one arm around her chest resting his hand on her left shoulder and yanking her non to gently back against his hard torso.

Her teeth clamped down onto her tongue and the hot metallic taste of her own blood flowed against her icy lips.

She felt fire stir within her as his hand slid sensually over her midriff clambering leisurely and lethargically upwards to remove her top. She stifled the panic that was now coursing through her, he did it slowly, frighteningly slowly, so that a second seemed to last an eternity. Bulma briefly wondered whether or not he was going to kill her as the long sleeved T-shirt fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.

She gasped; the sound piercing the lucid atmosphere of the silent room. The cold night air slivered across her bare skin; goose bumps forming across the surface, her beautiful porcelain skin was marred he could see that clearly in the dim light cast by the half moon.

Every few inches there was a deep cut in smooth milk like substance, deep purple engravements, long surface slashes that seemed to spiral in different directions and nail marks, lots and lots of nail marks.

Vegeta let his eyes trail sensually onto her back; scouring her skin brushing his nose against her hair, allowing himself the brief pleasure of inhaling her citrus like scent. A deep blue and purple bruise caught his attention, below her shoulder bone, long red marks stretched across it as though she had tried to scratch it off in her anger. This wasn't right; he was feeling sick to his stomach now as he could see some wounds on her back were still bleeding, crimson blood trickled from a gash above her right hip.

He touched it with the tip of one salty finger, her gasp of sudden pain sent odd sensations dancing through his stomach. 

She wriggled and writhed in his iron like grasp, trying desperately to pry herself loose; where ever he touched her, her skin exploded in fire. Waves emotion and anger flooded through her like a swollen river who's banks have crumpled under pressure.

"Enjoying yourself are you?" she hissed her voice seductively husky, long cerulean hair clouding her face from view as she lent forwards in a constrained effort to remove her person from his prying hands.

Blood; her blood lay glistening on the skin of his fore finger. 

Scarlet in appearance but much thicker than water.

The air stank of blood, blood, her life blood, what was she doing?

Bulma struggled again but to no avail; she hated the pressing silence like she was under some sort of interrogation, she didn't want to be treated like some mad thing.

She could take the pain, but not this horrific silence, and the last thing she wanted was his pity, to be treated like some sort of sick and wounded animal.

She wanted his pain, his anger, his body, his soul but anything; anything rather than his pity.

"Woman," he said slowly and fixedly after a moment's pause his voice lingering on the heavy air as though trying to get over the initial shock of her self inflicted wounds. His eyes, still fixed on the blood that was now dribbling down his finger, "What the hell is this about?"

His voice was passive, incomprehensible, cold; choking down the scream that swelled inside of her chest she tore herself away from him with sudden intense strength. She turned and faced him like a cornered animal, her wildly glittering eyes never once leaving his. If he was surprised or alarmed he didn't show it, he surveyed her with the frigid superiority she so abhorred. Bulma couldn't stand it; she felt the rage bubble inside of her like a volcano until it burst forth with untapped rage and aggression.

**"Don't you dare feel sorry for me you bastard!"** She balled her fist and struck him hard across the face, a red mark seared across his seamless completion. 

With one fluidic movement he had pinned her against the wall, the wind knocked out of her and the room oddly spinning before her eyes.

"Don't you dare touch me!" she screamed her head slamming into the wall, he smiled in tainted satisfaction at the sickening crunch and a sudden grunt of pain.

Vegeta let go of her and she fell to the floor her knees crashing into the wooden floorboard empailling them painfully upon a nail, she showed no sign of pain, but merely glanced up eyes mask like and emotionless all of a sudden, as a fresh spurt of blood dribbled down her slender leg. His nose was bleeding she realised.

His eyes found hers again, and this time the anger inside of them caused her temperature to soar, perspiration prickled painfully across her body. Vegeta leaned slowly down, wiping the thick blood from his bloodied nose on the back of his hand,

he yanked her up by her wrists and pinned her against his body. Her chest pressed to his chest his hips encircling hers. Arms clamped woodenly by her sides she could do nothing but regain her composure and listen as his arms moved about her waist while he whispered angrily in her ear.

"You want to hurt yourself so bad woman why don't I do it where everyone can see it?"  

Bulma didn't move or make any sign that she had heard what he said, she stared solidly at the wall behind his eye, her eyes never flicking to her capture. Although her blood ran cold as she felt his nose bump against the soft skin at the base of her neck, "How about a flesh wound here?" he said casually, he was enjoying this, he could smell her terror and her anger.

Did she think he'd let her win that easily?

She had a lot to learn about true Saiya-jins, he decided.

He liked her determination and that definite streak of stubbornness that seemed to reside in her countenance.

Yes he was enjoying this, why didn't they push the stakes a little higher?

The fact was he knew she was enjoying this to, and above all he knew she was attracted to him, he could taste it in her blood, driving her mad with conflicting emotions routed in hate, deceit, denial and lust.

He chuckled to himself, opening his mouth and letting sharp canines rake across her skin, she shuddered but made no other sign of displeasure.

He closed his eyes, taking in her dark citrus smell, like potent acid and yet unlike the bitter fragrance that consumes lemons and limes. She smelled sweet and young, although already she had entered her twenties the years fell unaged from her perfect form. She was beautiful, he had no wish in denying that, he was attracted to her but purely on a sexual basis, he wanted no part in this ludicrous game she was playing, or did he. Did he want the pleasure of seeing her break, her sudden submission to tears, the inevitable cave in to the lust and attraction that was coursing though both of them?

Did he want to break her heart, was she already insane?

There was a level of frightening sanity about her that almost over toppled his calm awareness of logic, she fought with emotions, both in the mind and body. Shadows enveloped her, it didn't take a trained eye to see that, the real Bulma was lost in that form, showing herself briefly in moments of anger or passion. This thing that was staring so fixedly at the wall behind him was only a shell of it's former self. The shadows lurked in the deeper confines of her mind, eating away at the spoiled for it had taken.

Would he break her?

And if he did what would be left?

Would she try to break him, was she already trying?

And if so why?

And in the deepest regions of his mind, places where he buried thoughts that he would rather forget, he remembered the dreams he had had of her naked form lying within his grasp.

Vegeta's eyes snapped open, alarmed by the sudden vivid image that had flickered into view before him, her blue eyes had flickered back to his now.

Cold and unearthly like a demons, he felt his temperature rise, disconcerted by his outward countenance he cast her from him in disgust.

"Get out!" He snarled, leaning back against the wall suddenly, inexplicably, utterly exhausted.

She stumbled forwards, clumsily like a child, reaching down to pick up the T-shirt that had so long before been cast to the ground.

She slipped it over her head, hiding her bra and bare back from his prying eyes, she turned to look at him, the moonlight casting shadows across her semi-naked form her long slender legs, her small waist, her well formed chest, her long neck and her heart shaped face.

Her expression was unreadable and her disposition dark, she didn't move for what seemed an age, eventually the silence played upon Vegeta's short temper.

"WHAT?!" He spat at her, his face contorted in anger, "WHAT THE HELL IS IT WOMAN?"

Bulma glared back at him, the part of her face he could perceive was calm and impassive.

"I know what it is you desire from me." She said simply, the words held hidden malice and seduction that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in suspense.

Vegeta glowered at her, his temperature rising steadily as her Prussian eyes washed into his.

"You better hope to God I don't act upon it then." He hissed slowly back at her, his teeth grinding against each other in alarm. Did she know?

And if so how?

She smiled suddenly, a cold and icy smile, the smile of a snake just before it strikes.

"I'd pray to God if I where you to save your unworthy soul. Because where your going there is no redemption for sinners. The sin I have I'll give to you and you will realise there is no beginning or end to the madness, the temptation you'll succumb to given time. And from the black pits your mind will be devoured in lamentation, and then no one will hear your cries for help."

Vegeta made a start as if to restrain her, but she drifted through the door like a chill breeze, those long slender legs disappearing from view into the cold and desolate night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I am sorry that took so long, originally I didn't plan on putting this chapter here, lol, excuse me, the next chapter will have a surprise visit from Chi-Chi and you'll know what exactly it was that Bulma did to Yamcha,

If that last paragraph confuses you, it doesn't matter, the riddle out to be revealed in the later story!

Thank you to everybody who has reviewed this fic, it gives me no greater pleasure to read long reviews!

Thank you again!

Love The Eternity Dragon

&

Murray

P.S A big thank you to Android 18 who is truly a fantastic writer and with out her input this chapter would not have been possible you go girl!

P.P.S Eternity Rocks!


	5. Chapter Five

                  Tempting Death

Disclaimer:...(+..+)

By The Eternity Dragon

Chapter Five

The wind was coming down fast against the stained glass windows, rattling the pane against the sill, in an angry and frustrated way. Bulma sighed, turning the icy mug of tea around and around in her chilly hands, oblivious to the banter going on around her.

"And do you know what that dratted man said next? He said that he felt saving the world was more important than grades, well I mean to say those A* aren't going to grade themselves well are they! Oh I gave him a what for, the nerve of that man! Don't you think so? Bulma, Bulma?" Chi-Chi gave an antagonistic sigh and waved her hand energetically in front her friend's blank expression. 

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Bulma blinked, slowly coming back down to earth, her thoughts disentangling themselves from the darkness inside of her, she smiled blankly at Chi-Chi her eyes unfocused, not really seeing her at all.

"Yes," she said eventually.

Chi-Chi's eyes expressed deep worry, she set her own empty cup down onto the glass coffee table and pulled her friends out of her firm grip and set it defiantly down on the table. The liquid lapped against the sides, spilling over and dribbling lethargically down the sides; where it lay in a puddle, glistening in the dim light, cold and unwanted against the pristine surface that lay all about it.

"What's wrong B," She said gently, brushing Bulma's hair back tenderly from her face as one might do to a child of six, "Is it Yamcha, I know he's going out with someone else now B. But like you said we all have to move on sometime don't we? I mean you and him used to argue like cats and dogs, and to be honest, I think that your much better off without him anyway."

Bulma smiled incoherently, her thoughts moving off the subject again, so Yamcha had a new girlfriend? She wasn't surprised or hurt as Chi-Chi suspected her to be, he had moved on and so had she, and after all. Yamcha was handsome; he had pleasant features did he not? He was charming and amusing at times, not particularly brave or clever perhaps but he was in no way repulsive. Bulma narrowed her eyes for an instant, placing her hands beneath her chin. A wound on her chest was throbbing painfully for some reason, she fidgeted slightly trying to forget and recollect; Chi-Chi was still nattering on about something or the other, what was she saying?

"People grow apart Bulma you said it yourself you must not regret it; we must all carry on with our heads held high. I know it must be painful for you but....."

She smiled at the irony of it all, painful? No, the experience had not been painful for her, on the contrary it had been sweet, the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, and the taste confounds the appetite.

Dear Chi-Chi, she would never know the boundless extent of irony those words produced, regret, did she regret? And if so when had she stopped?

She had called him back she remembered that clearly enough, that pale crystal morning when the dew had hung heavy in the air.

She had lain there naked in the dark, sobs racking her broken body to take her back to save her from her doom. He had stopped, stared, moved forwards and then moved back again, all the while shaking his head and muttering to himself.

The bed clothes strewn about her body, the same bed that they had made love in only a few hours ago, everything shattered and broken now.

He did not understand he never would, the terror was fresh, coursing through him like the boundless sea. The heavy tides breaking on the virgin shore dragging the pebbles down into the foaming waters.

She had cried for him, arms raised, pleading like a child, her mind child like in it's despair.

But he was wary now, she had played this game before; she knew she was beautiful and she knew she was desirable, she knew that men where easily flattered.

Their prides as inflatable and deflatable as a balloon's. And had he not, earlier that same night told her he would do anything for her, and he was a man of his word and honour, he would come to her if she asked; he was a coward he would dare to try nothing else.

But the night rang to clearly in his mind, the unseen voices, the unheard screams, they were alone that night, very much alone, a valentine's get away into a lovers embrace.

What lovers? The empty shell of a woman and a spineless human?

But he had fed her anger, her malice and spite had grown and blossomed in his care, he hadn't been enough anymore she had realised, he could no longer fuel her anger.

Bulma closed her eyes remembering that night where it all began; they had lain together on that bed, clasped close to one another, his fingers embedded in her long hair, he liked her hair that length.

He would sit for hours at length running his fingers through it, letting it cascade off the tips like solid water rippling into a cerulean mass. Her Prussian eyes were gazing up into his, not really seeing the thick feathery lashes that surrounded them, not really seeing him at all.

He had leant down and gently brushed his lips against hers, "Turn on the light my love," he had whispered to her, "I want to see all of you when I do this."

"But Yamcha," she had silkily replied, entwining her arms about his waist, "It's already light."

He had frowned, thinking she was playing a joke, but her eyes were serious, not a trace of mirth was to be caught in her expression.

"The curtains are drawn my darling," he said, turning to lie by her side, "and the dawn is still far off unless I be mad."

She went very still suddenly, as though made from ice. She did not stir for what seemed an age, her eye's flickering slowly open and shut.

Until, suddenly and abruptly she threw herself against him, lips crushing onto one another, limbs entwined.

"But dawn breaks through the window," she whispered fiercely in his ear, "It streams through the gap in the curtain and I can perceive all of you."

Yamcha tore his head away, panting slightly, caught off guard by her sudden attack.

"No it isn-" he began, but as cut short as she pushed him beneath her, leaning down so that an aqua curtain was formed on the left hand side of her face she smiled at him, through the gloom and the darkness he could see the faint light glittering off her pearly teeth.

The smile was like a snake's; before it rears to strike.

"This room is filled with light," she had snarled down at him, her eye's glittering wildly, "but you cannot see any of it you only see the darkness. This room is filled with ice and yet you only see the fire. I can see the light," she finished simply, her gaze shifting from his, "But I can only touch the darkness."

She moved away from him, smaller somehow, broken, subordinate, he had touched her and she had responded. But he only needed her body to feel passion, she needed much more, she needed him mind.

Again she had reached out when he asked for her to turn the light on, again she responded telling him that light already filled the room.

He grew angry and chastised her for her childishness, and she had responded. The screams had ripped from her throat, the blood, the flesh, the bones; the soul had quaked in their sudden out burst.

"The room is full of light!" she had yelled, "Why can't you see that?" 

He had tried to sooth and comfort the flames, but it only fed the fire, Prussian flames dancing like snakes across his skin; marring him tainting him. He had tried to contain her, he had tried to sympathise but how could he when he understood not?

She no longer felt fire at his touch only ice, she was not unfaithful and yet more so, how could her perceive that she felt fire for someone who was utterly consumed by it themselves?

Irony, it was a cruel word was it not, in light or out of it.

The danced had continued for a mere two weeks  after that, each time she had brought him a step closer to the brink, closer to the edge, but he was unable to cope.

She had broken him; how many times had she told him he was worthless to her, and yet comforted his sobs with the vows of a lover?

How many times had she hurt him only to later kiss the wounds to heal; and she remembered the time he had lain with her on that last night, telling her to turn off the light so he could sleep, and she had only replied, "The light is off, it is only a shadow if light you perceive."

He had run from her that morning she lay sobbing; without sleep and energy he had weakened his resolve, he could not save her from this madness. She did not love him, and the poison was already spreading into him.

He had left her like that, crying, weeping, bleeding, her parents and friends had taken the tears as sorrow to the disintegration of the relationship. They did not know they had extended into the regions of mourning for her lost soul, her morality the things that made her human.

They would never know, she was no longer human, she was no longer anything, she was no better that Vegeta, she had never killed anyone, though, not physically, but she was a murderer, and she had murdered her own.

Bulma turned smiling to her friend, her eyes expressionless, filled with calculated mirth, "I am wasting myself aren't I Chi?" she said playfully cocking her head to one side. Teasingly waggling her finger from left to right, "It's ironic isn't it? I broke up with him after all didn't I? I severed the relationship so why am I mourning over it, if Yamcha can move on then so can I!" She paused, suddenly turning her head towards the window; the trees were bent double under the howling wind, their leaves whipped about their sundering branches. Her eyes flickered briefly to the gravity machine, as forlorn homeless foliage was chased by the ruthless wind against the cold metal.

The machine was on but no one was inside it, she smiled to herself, though there was nothing amusing in the slightest about this situation.

He had been avoiding her recently, was he another coward? As spineless as Yamcha perhaps? The prince of a long dead race? 

"Well," began Chi-Chi, standing up now collecting the mugs together and moving into the kitchen, "as long as you don't harbour a resentment towards him you'll be fine." She said smoothly, disappearing into the kitchen, "Would you like another cup dear?"

"Mmm," Bulma answered, not really thinking about the question, turning her head again to the window, where was Vegeta?

"'I was angry with my friend:

 I told my wrath, my wrath did end.'"

She sighed and closed her eyes; tears like spikes inside of her were creeping slowly towards the surface.

"'I was angry with my foe; I told it not, my wrath did grow.'" The voice rippled across the room, disturbing the atmosphere like vibrations on the water.

He stood against the door frame, arms cross; eyes alert and wary, the room seemed to suddenly grow cold as though a window had been thrown open, but Bulma only felt the fire within herself.

"'And I watered it in fears, 

 Night and morning with my tears.'"

She spat her voice aggressive and hostile, "What do you want?" she snarled suddenly, how long had he been watching her for?

"Something wrong Bulma?" came Chi-Chi's voice from the kitchen, "The water's nearly boiled, we've not got long now."

He smirked seductively back at her, revealing those sharp canines he had brushed against her bare flesh that night. "'And I sunned it with smiles, and with soft deceitful wiles.' Tell me does your little friend know about these wiles of yours? Why don't you tell her, or shall I?"

Bulma made a sudden movement as if to march straight into the kitchen to escape from this interrogation, or simply to distract her friend from overhearing the conversation.

But Vegeta got there first, he pushed her down brutally onto the seat, he laughed cruelly down at her, his hands pushing her shoulders back so they rested against the sill.

He lowered his head, those dangerous onyx orbs twinkling with a sudden thought, her skin was covered in fire, it burned and writhed in her flesh driving her mad with frustration and anger.

"Let me go!" she hissed, wriggling to free herself from his grasp, he leaned down closer to her so that his nose bumped salaciously across hers, trying again to arouse her disposition. 

"How does it all finish then?" he question, his eyes glittering maliciously, his warm breath tickling her skin, "What fruit are you to bare?"

He laughed again coldly down at her, as she snarled back up at him, Prussian eyes wild with anger. She was enjoying this he could tell from her expression, every second.

CRASH!

"What the hell are you doing!?" Someone yelled, the disturbance brought them back to earth again, their attention snapping back to the ferocious looking woman with two smashed mugs lying by her feet.

Vegeta stood up releasing Bulma's fists slowly, almost reluctantly, "Pursuing matters of a personal nature." He replied coolly, walking towards the door, ignoring Chi-Chi's accusatory stares.

He turned back in the doorway, he was smirking again evidently pleased with himself, abhorrence, revulsion and fury boiled in Bulma's chest, she was finding it nearly impossible to suppress.

Chi-Chi's gaze flickered from one to the other, a suspicion was born in her mind and it stayed there rooted deep among near impossible thoughts.

'In the morning glad I see my foe outstretched beneath the tree.'

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe

I told it not my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears:

And I sunned it with smiles

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine.

And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole

When night had veild the pole;

In the morning glad I see.

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.


	6. Chapter Six

                  Tempting Death

Disclaimer:………(+..+)

By The Eternity Dragon

Chapter Six

The silence spiralled horribly for what seemed an age, Bulma avoided her friends piercing gaze, trying desperately to maintain her violent temper, she began to count to twenty, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Damn that man, damn him to hell!

Chi-Chi's eyes flickered to the open door and back to her friend; this reality was taken sometime to sink in, her smoking ebony eyes radiated anger. Was Vegeta playing with her best friend? And if so why was Bulma tolerating it like she was.

She turned her gaze to the woman on the sofa, her eyes were closed, blue hair drawn like a curtain on either side of her face, hands tightly clenched together so that her nails dug deep into the soft skin of her palm, she seemed to be muttering something under her breath.

Chi-Chi felt anger rise within her like a hurricane, she moved swiftly out of the room and into the hallway, Bulma opened her eyes in surprise, "Chi-Chi what are y-?"

Her friend emerged from the hallway carrying her coat and another in her arms,

"You need to get out if here B," she said sternly, throwing the red material across the room where it landed on the sofa in a crumpled heap.

"Get away from work, your love life, and, and that **_man_**." She spat the last part out    venomously as if she was going to be sick, those last words still haunted her; what did he mean 'Pursuing matters of a personal nature?'

"But the mess," Bulma said in a vague attempt to distract her friend, she didn't want to go out. She hadn't been out of the house for sometime now, she felt oddly claustrophobic in crowds, all those smiles and happy people, it just reminded her of her own problems. S he was so different from the norm, she couldn't smile like they did, she couldn't laugh like they could either.

People moved past her in a blur, she was left standing alone, numb to the world around her, and at least in isolation she could think, think about thinks that used to matter.

Things that should matter, like love, live, joy, pain and forgiveness.

She was none of these things, she felt physical pain of course, and anger, lust as well, but no joy, pleasure perhaps in the oddest of places, but she wasn't alive anymore. The person in the pictures about the room was dead, they hung in frames from the walls, and they stood erect on every surface.

Pictures of a blue haired smiling angel, holding her first bicycle, holding up a national science award, the blue haired girl with Goku and Chi-Chi laughing. The girl and Yamcha at their anniversary she looked so happy so normal……

An odd knot formed at the bottom of Bulma's stomach like she was slowly suffocating, she turned quickly away less she should scream, standing up she pulled the coat on, it was a slaughterous red, the colour of freshly spilled blood.

The knot had not gone away.

They left the house together; Bulma's hands plunged deep into her pockets head down, so that her hair trickled languorously down her creamy cheeks, her eyes down cast, her long feathery lashes shaded her cerulean eyes from view.

Chi-Chi nattered on non stop about one think or another, not seeming to notice her friend's lack of enthusiasm in conversation.

But it was nothing she couldn't handle; the problems began to arise as they entered public gatherings.

Chi-Chi pulled Bulma into a perfume shop, dragging her down the isles to look at make up and an assortment of bath salts.

The low hum of constant conversation was begging to work on Bulma's nerves, she began to scratch of her arms in a nervous way, blinking and turning her head slowly from one side to the other.

Chi-Chi stopped in the middle picking out a vibrant scarlet lip stick to notice her friends agitated body language.

"Are you too hot or something?" she asked, concern rippling across her, perhaps this wasn't such a good idea.

Bulma shook her head vigorously not trusting herself to speak as people brushed past her, a high pitched humming had filled her head, she raised one hand to her forehead in a desperate attempt to calm herself down, "Don't crack," she murmured inaudibly to herself, "Just calm down."

Chi-Chi returned to her lipstick browse, watching her friend from the corner of her eye, as she leant against the bath salt rack, suddenly looking exhausted as though she had just run a mile.

"You are alright aren't you dear?" she asked anxiously, this better not have anything to do with that man, she though savagely, I'll kill him if it has.

Bulma didn't answer, her attention was turned else where, she was looking to her right now, her deep blue eyes widened with shock and horror as though she had just seen a ghost, and it was a ghost, a ghost of the past.

Chi-Chi followed her gaze; she was looking at the isle directly behind them, a woman with burgundy coloured hair that fell to her small shoulders in thick ringlets, she had smouldering green eyes and a large cherry red mouth.

She was laughing about something the man next to her had said, she leaned over to kiss his cheek affectionately; a man who had been plagued by memories of love and hate until they had eventually become one.

That man was Yamcha.

Bulma let out an audible gasp, her face draining of the little colour it possessed, the high pitched humming increasing to a higher level as the world swam in front of her eyes in a rainbow of blurred colours.

Remain calm, she thought desperately trying to fight down the flight of panic fluttering inside of her, he's a coward, easily manipulated, he won't do anything that involves risk.

Chi-Chi turned back to her friends horrified expression with mounting concern, "Do want to leave?" she asked taking her friends hand in hers, it was surprisingly cold she found, and full of tiny ditches.

She nodded, like a child suddenly unable to find words that fitted into this monotony of life, Chi-Chi understood; it was too soon she was unable to confront someone who still plagued her thought in the dead of night.

"Let's go." 

They might have made it out unnoticed as well, if Chi-Chi hadn't have knocked into the perfume stand, knocking over about twenty phials of perfume into on stinking heap.

As shop attendant scurried over to clean up the offending mess and switch on the air conditioning, Yamcha looked up, his gaze flickered to Chi-Chi and he smiled, waving cheerfully at her, nudging the girl next to him so that she looked up as well, he moved forwards in hopes of introducing her, and then his gaze slipped sideways, to the blood red coat, he stopped, faltering in the steps he had just a minute ago been so sure of.

Her eyes were cold and expressionless; she stood as though made from ice unmoving and unfathomable.

Chi-Chi bit her tongue at her own clumsiness, she was obviously picking more up from her husband than she realised.

She turned to face Yamcha, determined to shield Bulma from any unnecessary pain of introduction to the woman who had replaced her.

Her gaze flickered back to her friend, and she stopped in her thoughts at the sudden change that had aspired over her friend's countenance, she seemed different somehow taller, more in control, beautiful in a deadly way, like the blade of a dagger, or a golden phial poison.

"Chi-Chi," Yamcha said after some hesitation, shuffling his feet nervously from one side to the other, "How are you, have you met……." He began but was cut off by the red haired girl as she stuck out her hand enthusiastically towards Chi-Chi, her long red tresses swirling about her shoulders.

"I'm so glad to meet you," she said breathlessly excitement shining from her innocent emerald eyes, "My names Anastasia, you must be Chi-Chi,"

Chi-Chi made a face half way between a frown and a smile, it was obvious that she was trying to find fault on Bulma's behalf towards this carefree creature.

"And, oh wow! Gosh! She really is beautiful isn't she Yamcha, you must be Bulma; Yamcha's told me so much about you! What wonderful hair! Do you straighten it or does it just fall like that? It's like a solid waterfall isn't it honey? Gosh I wish I had hair like that, and doesn't it go so well with that shade of red? You look so good you're almost edible…."

Bulma smiled, it wasn't a genuine smile like Chi-Chi's however, the innocence of this girl was almost painful for her, and it was thrown in her face, smothering its gentle folds across her marred and broken body in suffocating bonds.

What had Yamcha told her she wondered? Certainly not the truth or this little thing wouldn't be talking to her like this, her eyes flickered briefly towards him, and he was looking at her, an odd expression flitting across his features.

Bulma felt a peculiar sensation filter through her, something between pain and anger, but it was a rooted into the depths of her soul, the expression was pity.

He felt sorry for her, she knew, he had moved on and she hadn't, Bulma felt the anger rise within her like a tempest.

She closed her eyes regaining composure, she turned away heading for the door, she knew it must seem odd but the anger was so close to the surface now she didn't trust herself to be able to control it.

Willing herself not to run she moved silently out of the shop, into the thronging crowd, enveloping her entirely, she lost herself in a crush of people. 

 "Bulma! Bulma!" Someone was yelling, she didn't respond but continued to press forwards, she wanted to be alone, she couldn't stand the pity anymore, the anxious concern, the hatred she felt for everyone was overwhelming she needed to be alone, God she wished she was dead.

Someone grabbed her hand, she wrenched it out of their grasp, suddenly breaking into a run, pushing people out of the way, she was so tired of being someone else.

'Leave me alone!' she thought desperately, fighting for air as she pressed her way through, 'Leave me alone!'

She fought for air as the world spun around her, it's odd, but sometimes you can be the loneliest amid a mass of people.

**_Okay, I think that was definitely the worst chapter I have ever written, don't worry the next chapter is way better!_**

**_Lol,_****_ read and review!_**

**_Love The Eternity Dragon_**

**_&_**

**_Murray_**


	7. Chapter Seven

                  Tempting Death

Disclaimer:………(+..+)

By The Eternity Dragon

Chapter Seven

Vegeta turned and switched the gravity settings down to zero, sweat dripping from his forehead and torso he moved quickly into the shower extension allowing cold water to course across his skin. His mind kept flicking back and forth from those blue eyes, her fire, that look of utter contempt that had lingered in her lips. He shook his head, forcing the images from his mind, now was the not the time to get side tracked by….distractions.

Pulling the towel roughly over his damp hair, he cast a disgusted look out of the window.

It was raining, again.

Fat droplets of the icy cold liquid dribbled furiously down the pane. Pulling a top haphazardly over his head, he stumbled clumsily out into the yard.

Rain trickled down his back, dancing across the tarmac pavements and running in tiny tributaries down it the sewers.

Vegeta frowned, he was hungry and that woman had not come back to the house yet, he smirked remembering the look on her face when he had last seen her.

The clouds rumbled over head, white streaks of lightening dashed across the darkening sky.

Vegeta paused, his hand halfway towards the handle of the back door; darts of electricity rushed up and down his spine.

Someone was watching him.

Standing rock still, rain slid across his skin, lying like ice across his living flesh.

Slowly, he turned round, emotions pushed to one side, the 6th sense of one who has been hunted all his life coming into play.

She stood, silent, mute, statue like, arms by her sides, rain trickling down her body.

Rigid and taught like some sort of doll, her eyes expressionless boring into his, that sapphire of countless oceans, countless tears, countless pain, frozen damned up into a well of nothingness.

For a second he forgot even to breath.

Standing there for what seemed an age he finally moved, "What are you doing?" he asked gruffly, disconcerted at being caught off his guard.

How long had she been standing there for?

Bulma didn't move; her lips frozen, deadened as water slid languorously over the twin crimson petals.

Vegeta walked towards her, rain sliding unpleasantly down his bare arms, soaking his T-Shirt causing his skin to prickle in irrepressible goose bumps.

"Woman," he said gently somewhat unsure of her reaction.

Her gaze didn't flicker, like some dead thing she stood motionless; her eyes unblinking, dark and lost in a horizon of thoughts and shadows.

He raised his hand to her face, hesitating slightly before touching her skin, she was ice cold!

His warm fingers lingering on her smooth skin, he let his fingertips slid across to her mouth, brushing gently against her scarlet blood like lips.

She shuddered, and blinked but made no movement to stop him, her eyes still unfathomable, like an empty picture, or the bottom of a well, nothing but nothingness was reflected in her eyes.

Reason quickly surfaced again, questions buzzing through his mind in the blink of an eye, he had to get her inside, get her warm, get her to react again somehow someway.

Where was the fire?

All he saw was a glacier of impenetrable crystal.

Taking her by the arm he led her towards the house, she moved slowly, like someone who is walking through water, sluggish and slow.

Vegeta kept turning round and staring at her, guilt was swelling inside of him.

Was this somehow his fault?

He had thought her much stronger than this; this total shut down seemed enigmatic 

to him. Like a broken body with its soul long gone, lost in the ages but there, a flicker and a thought but nothing more.

He stopped her inside the hallway, removing that blood red coat from her shoulders, it fell in a crumpled heap by her feet, she looked so small without it, less dominating, less imperious, pale even. 

The colour was drained from her cheeks, listless and pale; she stood like a ghost, her eyes still unreadable he began to lead her up the stair pausing as he towards her room.

For once in his life he was at a standstill, images of blood flickered into his mind.

Fingernails raking her pale porcelain flashed in front of his eyes, the smelling of blood lingering in his nostrils.

Could if he left her alone would she do something drastic?

But then again taking her into his room would be inappropriate, but when had he the Prince of Saiya-jins cared for common courtesy? Except paid to himself of course, but then that was natural.

Bulma blinked, her eyes flickered from the indecisive form of the Saiya-jin in front of her to the door of her own room.

_Nothing stirred within her heart, no pain, no anger, no life, nothing._

The silence was immense, sucking her self-restraint and sanity into a bottomless black hole, like she was slowly suffocating.

Moving quickly past him she entered the room and shut the door, sinking against the panel, clutching her knees to her chest she gently rocked backwards and forwards.

Desperately trying to stem the overwhelming flow of nothingness that was streaming through her.

She closed her eyes.

**"Feel."** She muttered incomprehensibly to herself, the rain pounding relentlessly against the window.

The wind tore across the gardens, rushing through the trees, hurling against the house in untold rage, battering water pearls in all directions, splattering them like the conquest of war onto every available surface.

**"Feel."** She said again, louder, her hands travelling up her arms like icicles, raking across her marred skin.

The pain was fresh and so reassuringly real.

She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the throbbing that was slowly spreading across her skin.

Images of the day flickered again before her, that red hair, those green eyes, that look of horror, that expression.

**_I've moved on, why haven't you?_**

Bulma stood up; hands clutching her head as though in extreme pain.

**_"I don't want your pity!"_** she snarled, as though talking to something, anything.

The silence remained swallowing her hole, forcing anger out in frightening amounts of pain and anguish. The fury was beginning to swell, she needed something, anything, stop this pain.

"Don't you dare pity me!" She shook her head violently, as though trying to shake a mental image off.

_Don't leave me alone._

"NO!" The scream ripped from her throat like a dying creature, ripping from her lungs with a full force that terrified her.

She fell to the floor, nails sinking deep into the soft flesh beneath her right wrist, blood spurted from the wound dribbling down her arms.

Pain coursing through her, she crouched down, watching in horror as the crimson liquid spooled onto the white carpet.

"Stand up woman."

Bulma spun round, her eyes glittering wildly, heart pounding erratically against her chest she stepped backwards not even trying to hide her self inflicted wound.

"GET OUT!"

He didn't move, she was like a caged animal frightened and alone, the flames where burning into her flesh, slowly killing her.

He stirred, gently approaching her, she shuddered, rage filling her eyes once again, she lifted her hand to strike him full across the face.

He started, grabbing her wrist, before it could reach him, jerking her towards him so that her nose bumped against his chest.

Her eyes watered, she pushed herself away with her bloody hand.

Eyes smouldering with anger, she glared up into his onyx eyes, "Don't you,"

she began, but she never finished the sentence.

He shook his head, realising her arm, taking her bloody hand in his he allowed his eyes to trail languorously across it.

He watched her reaction, she had gone frigid again, 'Feel damn it!', he thought raising her arm to his lips he let his tongue slid across her icy flesh, she shuddered.

Moving his mouth of her wound he sucked, feeling her metallic blood enter his mouth, he was infused with her now. Her eyes wide and shocked flooded into his,

"Vegeta," she said softly, her arm flexing under his touch, "What's wrong with me?"

He looked at her, not wondering where to begin, but where to stop, "Tell me first what's wrong with the whole God forsaken world and then I'll answer that."

She laughed, cold and mirthless, "The world is not to blame," she said quietly, not looking at him, again he ran his tongue across her exposed flesh and she trembled.

"Stop it." She said loudly, panic rising inside of her.

He moved closer, his hot hands moving from her arms to her waist.

"Why?" he hissed in her ear, "afraid you'll feel something for a monster?"

_Don't leave me standing here._

"Let me go!" she snarled, pushing at his chest, her gaze flickering from those scintillating eyes, cold shivers danced throughout her body as she felt his mouth move to the base of her neck and move its way upwards.

_He's not the monster._

**_"Stop!" _**his mouth moved fervently over hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth, filling her, plunging her forwards and then back again, fighting for air she tried to subdue the reactions her body was undergoing.

_Don't let me fall again._

"You have to let me go!"

"Why?" he snarled in her ear, his hands travelling up her back, causing her spine to curve into his body of its own accord.

"So you can continue this sick little game of yours?"

Bulma struggled trying desperately to fight her way out of his grasp, her own passions where ensnaring her.   

 "It's not a game!" she hissed though her teeth as those hot kisses rained across her face, her temperature soaring, she fought to remain sane.

"No," she moaned, parting her lips fractionally, feeling his wet tongue slide sensually across the crimson buds.

_Why am I still falling?_

She gasped, her mind falling into mindless sensations, noise and delirium, somewhere rain was falling with monotonous rapidity on a tiled roof. Somewhere the wind was blowing relentlessly of a window pane that was in turn throwing itself against the sill in angry jagged movements.

Vegeta moved his head back, gulping down the cool air, a thousand words, and thousand questions were running through his brain, this should stop, he should stop.

Her eyes were closed; long inhales and exhales of breath were finding themselves laboriously expelled from her lips, one hand clutching his shoulder, blood dribbling down her skin in long trickles, like crimson ribbons sailing down her arm. 

That was all he could smell, blood.

Her blood.

He was drowning in blood.

_Don't let me fall._

What was he doing?

He lent forwards his nose bumping gently across hers, easing in again one step at a time.

Maybe he should stop.

Her eyes were still closed as he ran one warm hand around her midriff, all the while conscious of the hand she had placed at the nape of his neck.

"Bulma," he let the name slide off his lips slowly, savouring every syllable, watching with profound amusement at the way she shuddered, the way her mouth would open slightly, the way she gasped when he kissed her.

Watching her, only her, only his.

His hand moved in a slow circle about her midriff, sliding sensually and leisurely under her shirt, her skin was as soft as a whisper, smooth as silk, pale as a ghost.

Her eyes were still closed; he could feel his heart jumping against his chest making breathing a stressful labour.

Maybe he should stop.

He was in far too deep to back out now.

Don't leave me standing here.

His other arm circled her waist pulling her possessively closer to him, hips crushed against one another's, his hand still resting on her flat stomach, her long hair cascading down her back , hanging in clumps still wet and wild.

She opened her eyes; waves of anger, hate, and self-loathing were mixed among pain, suppression, lust and deep passion.

He was lost in that split second, crystal seas and archetypal oceans, the heavens that split to bleed a river of tears. Water gushing from a waterfall to sunder into the jagged pits of open rocks.

Pain beyond pain, passion beyond passion, he was holding on to something that wasn't there.

He could touch it, he could feel it, he could see it, but it would never be his until that hollow shell was filled, filled with more than just a flicker and a thought, more than the countless anger of thousands, more than the rage of the sundering seas.

It had no love.

And he, the prince of all Saiya-jins could not save it.

The hate raged within her as a tempest that destroys everything within its path; all hatred, all rage that was found within the bottomless wells of her soul was channelled for one split second at him.

Like a fire it raged within her, leaving her filled with a new revulsion at having being touched by one she'd sworn to rip apart piece by piece.

The tables had been turned, her soul lay in tatters by her feet, her blood rushed for him, her pulse beat for him, her heart pounded for him and all sensations reeled.

But she couldn't forget.

With a sudden incalculable strength she tore herself away from him, her eyes wild and fierce she shrieked, **"Don't you ever touch me again you monster!**

** I don't want to feel anything! **

**Not this pain… not this pain... **

**Do you hear? **

**Nothing!**

** Not from you or anything else! Now get the Hell out of my room!"**

Her cheeks were flushed with crimson, the same colour as her lips; the same colour of her blood, the wound was now throbbing painfully again, comfort coursed through her, finally something that was real.

Vegeta stood there for a second, rain pounding against the roof, and the wind hurling itself against the windows with unleashed aggression.

He raised his head and jutted out his chin slightly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I thought you were stronger than that." He said finally, those dark ominous orbs seeing right into her soul.

Her arms prickled and she felt herself shiver.

_Don't let me fall_.

He moved past her, pausing in the door way, "Obviously," he said after sometime, his voice fracturing the silence like ripples on the surface of a pool, "I was wrong."

And then he left her to the darkness, without turning back.

**_I'm falling now,_**

****

****

**_                                                Why won't you catch me?_**

 *         *         *         *                      *          *         *         *       *            *          * 

Mmmmmm, could be a good update, could not be a good update, actually this is all due to Fadeaway Windwalker, it is that isn't it?

Thank you for that truly lovely review, it really made me smile, so the reason that this chapter is here at all is due to her!

Thank you so much!

This is a very crucial chapter, it's either gonna make it or break it so you know, watch out for the next 3 maybe, cause this is comin' to a bitter sweet ending :D

I guess sittin' in front of the computer really works huh?

Lol

The Eternity Dragon and Murray!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer:….;

Tempting Death

By The Eternity Dragon

Author's note: To anyone who is still reading this, who has reviewed, faved it and put me down on your favourite authors list, thank you really, thank you! I want to apologise for the inexcusable lateness of this chapter, apologises SORRY! I don't even know if it's actually worth reading! I found my muse again cuddles Murray

Oh, he was hiding because I threatened to turn him into a doorstop XD.

Murray: You'd be hiding too if she'd threatened to stick a melting candle in your forehead! ;;

Hahah, the undead, so fickle! Anyho- I hope you enjoy this chapter, things are beginning to heat up again and I really don't actually know if it's any good- I spun it off after working with the idea for ages-L it might be dreadful…hmm, check my bio page for more details on what's to come and other relevant stuff fanfiction related-blah blah….anyway special thank you to Fadeaway wind walker (again though she's probably forgotten all about this now ; my fault!) And Android 18 who is my special person who got me into fanfiction in the first place.

Chapter 8

It had been a month, a whole entire month, four weeks, thirty one days since that rainy day, when she had been standing out on the lawn. In that long red blood coat, staring into the distance, so utterly lifeless, like a hollow shell. Since then, he had avoided her like the plague, not to say that he had run from any room she was inhabiting; he-the prince of all Sayai-jins afraid of another mortal? and not just any mortal- a woman at that. It wasn't something that bore much contemplation. But the fact was it did-it haunted him, to an extent he found it difficult to sleep at night; and his mind, when freed from the thoughts of training and becoming stronger then that idiot clown Kakkarot, trailed off, in long tributaries that spiralled into wordless thoughts that all seemed to end in the same way. They ended with her- against her dark lips, on her smooth, bloody skin, trailing in long sinuous movements down her legs, her hips, her chest, her neck. He knew that it was far from the 'distraction' he had thought it to be.

It was an obsession, an passion that he was unable to rid himself of, he could deny it to high heaven, but it didn't erase the fact that when he closed his eyes all he seemed to be able to see was her-only her. Despite the cracked mask of humanity that she seemed to wear almost constantly over her face, he had glimpsed something inside the recesses of the human shell. Something alive, something naked and raw with emotion; crouched among the shadows of its own thoughts. This thing-that had pushed him, dared him, seduced him, and punished him at the same time drew its hands above his neck and crooned to him. Pulsing with the same rhythm, the same undeniable-attraction. Is that what it was? An attraction? No, lust then- that same undeniable yearn that coursed through the both of them against their wishes. Carnal impulse and desire-that's what it was. An obsessive longing that would not leave him alone whether he was awake or asleep. He laughed at himself then, his mouth twisting up into a cruel smile that was truly humourless, was this her game then? Had she meant to do this to him? Punish him? And for what purpose?

His fingers played with the dial for the gravity settings, and a vivid flash of memory jolted through his minds eye. He saw her again, kneeling on the floor, her body tense and heaving under the strain as he pushed the dial up, her acidic glare of pure hatred and something-something else. He closed his dark eyes and tried to remember, pushing past the cobwebs of haze that lingered in the corners of his mind. There had been something else there, something he had not noticed in her before-a brief flicker in her eyes.

The rain came rattling down the windows, and the winds howled and moaned against the pane of the single window. He opened his eyes and frowned, resting his hands against the buttoned panel, he could not think, he could not remember. In a sudden rage he slammed his fist down hard into the smooth surface of the control panel, it sunk with a screech of tearing fibre through the metal frame and into the mesh of wire beneath it. Red hot pain jolted through him as his skin connected with the live raw wires, energy sliced through his brain as he wrenched his hand away, holding his wrist in a firm unyielding grip.

The lights flickered out one by one in the Grav room, transcending slowly into a ravenous darkness, he leant against the wall, his heart jumping erratically in his chest, his blood pumping deafeningly in his ears. He swore, the words thick and lingering on his arched lips, the sluggish humourless smile trailing its way across his mouth, as he sank wordlessly to the floor, his vision blurring in and out of focus. Had she won? Was he letting her win? The silence roared in his ears now, his thoughts becoming lethargic and loosing all sense in their descent to painless oblivion.

_"No one will hear you scream." _

The words, from the depths of his subconscious swam their way up to the forefront of his mind, they lingered for a moment, fading in and out of recognition, dipping and sliding down a spiralling staircase of memories.

"I'm thinking again," he murmured, the words toppling and dancing from his tongue, "She's getting to me-why am I letting her get to me?"

He stopped, and listened to the silence, fighting the mad desire to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation- had he gone mad?

No, in fact far from it, the jolt of electricity had temporarily blurred his mind, but his thoughts, although seeming to slip away from him like water through cupped fingers, were re-arranging themselves. New ideas, plans, actions and consequences were forming in his mind. Some half carnal, primitive beast was stirring in the recesses of his thoughts, raising its head to sniff the new air, stretching its long limber limbs. He saw her again, for a brief instant, writhing in agony on the Grav room floor- her eyes glinting, and then the expression changing-changing to….

He pressed his hands against his forehead, his brow furrowing-what was it? That look in her eye, he had recognised it then, but now the memory was gone.

_"No one will hear you scream."_

His wrist throbbed and the sound of the rain fell piercingly against the glass pane of the single window.

"Come on you idiot think!" he yelled into the uproar, lightening streaking through the moody sky, illuminating the room with its eerie light.

And then-through the drumming pain, the clouds of half murmured thoughts, the obsession, the carnal lust, the twist of the lips- he remembered- and then he understood. The look on her face, it was a plea- a cry of total desperation, a look he recognised, one that he had seen on his own face on those early years under Freza's regime. She had been crying out to him in silence, like she had been this entire time- against her sanity and against even perhaps her own will.

"Help me- I'm loosing myself- help me."

And he'd missed it- he had been caught up inside his own little enigma that he had completely over looked it. The game, the self harming, the carnal lust. It was all part of the same thing-a plea for help, for guidance-for…love.

But he couldn't give that to her, he couldn't give her anything like that, surely she must realise that, he wasn't capable of it, not anymore…how on earth could he save someone else, when his own soul was blistering in the eternal heat of damnation.

Love-that was something only fools did like that clown Kakkarot, he had none to give-no-there was nothing, nothing inside his soul but anger, hatred, lust and gluttony it seemed for punishment.

He didn't understand why she had chosen him as her vent, why not someone closer? But then again it was the same game that had driven her fool of a boyfriend, Yamcha away as well. His mind had been too weak and self absorbed to understand, to even begin to comprehend her feelings.

_I'm falling…_

Why should he shoulder any of her pain? Why would he want to heal her? Make her understand she wasn't alone-why did Miss Perfect need someone else-didn't she understand it was trusting in others that lead to these feeling of self hatred, and soul consuming rage.

It wasn't his fault-why should he help? Why should he care if she pushed him away, avoided him, and didn't look at him when they were in the same room together? And why? Why was it that when they _were_ in the same room together, every fibre of his being ached with awareness of her.

"Why?" he yelled, standing up, his fingers clenching into fists and crashing into the hard density of the wall.

"Damn it to hell! Why can't I forget?"

"Don't you think, Bulma dear, it's time we invited Yamcha and his new girlfriend round to dinner?"

Bulma looked up from her slop of mashed potatoes to stare at her mother's smiling face. The evening was late, and the rain moaned and beat against the tiles and walls of the house. Vegeta had come in late, halfway through the main meal, (something which he had recently taken to doing) with a dark, brooding look on his face. Her father, who it seemed, had noticed the thick tension in the air between them had been keeping a close watch on her- scrutinising her suggestions and movements as if trying to catch her out at her own game. She felt her insides shiver at the challenge, and it set her nerves on edge, subconsciously she tugged and cotton fabric of her sleeves dragging them further down her arms.

Yamcha here? With that-that woman? Rage bubbled up inside of her and she had difficulty suppressing from her face.

"Perhaps dear," her father interjected suddenly, tapping the pink and gold china tureen with a sliver spoon, "we should invite all of the Z gang as well, you know make a bit of a party out of it."

Her mother clapped her hands together in delight, her blonde hair bouncing in blonde curls about her head, "Oh yes, that would be good, it's been _such_ a long time since we last did that."

Bulma felt her skin prickle; she looked up from her plate to find _him_ staring at her with inscrutable onyx eyes, her stomach flipped in revulsion. She had been ignoring him totally recently, thinking about him made the pain altogether worse. Her heart seemed to thump irregularly in her chest, and her pulse quickened, she looked away, her eyes falling on a picture by the mantelpiece. Only to see a younger version of herself smiling back happily, a diploma in one hand and a victory sign in the other, her heart seemed to twist and then break.

"It would be a good idea Dad." She said suddenly, her smile bright, "I've missed seeing all the old gang, Gohan's growing up so fast and I haven't seen Goku in ages."

Her father nodded his approval at this, and they talked, discussing plans, food, convenience and other trivialities. His eyes never left her, she noticed, and as she stood up to go into the kitchen with her half eaten plate he followed her. Her hands dug hard into the palms of her hand as she stood in the kitchen, washing her dish.

She heard the clatter of the china somewhere behind her, her hands clutching on hard to the sides of the sink.

"And you really think you can cope with all of them at once?"

The whisper came hot and hissing into her ear, subconsciously she jerked her head away, her mouth twisting up in revulsion.

"I have nothing to say to you." She retorted calmly and acidly, her eyes fixed on the soapy suds floating about in the dirty tap water.

His hands encircled her waist and pulled her back hard against his chest, "You think you have them all fooled don't you?" he snarled, his mouth pressed into her blue curling hair; "You're the only fool here!"

She laughed then, low in her throat and twisted herself about in his arms so she could face him, pressing her hands against his chest she tilted her head back slightly so she could see directly into his eyes.

"I am not afraid of you Vegeta," she said calmly, "I can do whatever the hell I like with my life, and it's no concern of yours."

"Really?" he hissed, "I suppose jumping out of windows and threatening to put the blame on me is none of my business then." he tightened his grip on her forearms and drew her closer, hips against hips, torso against torso.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything-just leave me alone."  
"Damn you woman, you know I very well can't do that!"

She looked at him then with a strange expression in her eyes, "Why?" questioned, her lips compressing into a thin line.

Vegeta felt like his insides were on fire, his grip became so tight it was painful; suddenly impulsively he kissed her, hard, painfully hard. So his teeth toe against the tender flesh of her pink lips, and so the taste of blood coursed through his mouth.

"Fix the damned machine!" he hissed, her blue eyes were wide and staring as he walked out of the backdoor slamming forcibly behind him so the ceiling shook.

She felt that her knees would crumble beneath her as she leant against the counter, touching her bloody lips and fighting the need to tear at her skin. She was aching with a stabbing pain that coursed through her entire body. A whole month, four weeks and thirty-one days she had avoided this feeling-and now it was in her again, feeding the pain, she felt her brain tilt slowly into overdrive. She hated him-oh how she loathed the man-how dare he? How dare he make her feel like-like this?

She took a deep shuddering breath, turned around and leant over the sink, as though she was about to be sick. She heard the tinkle of a glass, and heard her father open the kitchen door, "Bulma!" he cried, rushing over and feeling her forehead, "Honey are you sick? You're flushed, and you're shaking!"

Dimly she looked down at her hands, to see that she was indeed shaking, the palms slightly reddened where she had dug her nails into the soft flesh, her lips twisted in a sour, forbidding smile as she look at it.

"No-I'm just a little dizzy Daddy, I'll be fine, just-just let me sit down for a while."

He would pay, she had forgotten for a while, consumed by her own grief, but oh- if she could not forget then neither would he, she would make him sorry. Sorry for ever trying to win; and she would rather die then loose this game.

She walked into the sitting room and fell onto the couch, breathing heavily to calm her own heartbeat.

"I wonder," she murmured aloud, her eyes closed, "how many people tempt their own death?"

2nd Authors note : Ahhhh! The crapness, I'm soooooo sorry cries But I have to set the scene for the things later to come laughs evilly okay, no more chocolate for me…I actually at this precise moment really want to write Death Note fanfiction-what? You haven't read it? OMG! WHY! (: (link is posted in my bio XD)

So yep, yep, will slash L and Ratio yet Mwhuaaaa! Oh yes, chapter also dedicated to Shadow Vampire (because I love her lots and she's always pestering me about writing….argh..I have to go write other stuff now ;;)

Please, please review…because I love-let me under line this I love feed back it's about 90 of the reason why I write fanfiction. Oh, but then again this chapter is so bad you probably don't want to 0..o;

Thank you for reading, for ever reviewing and just putting up with my lazy bum, I love you all!

Hahah oh write up in your review on what you think will happen next, I'd love to see where you think this is going!

Ja-ne!

Love The Eternity Dragon and Murray


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